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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256466">In Your T-Shirt, In My Satin Lingerie</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/YigaClan/pseuds/YigaClan'>YigaClan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Steven Universe (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Car Sex, F/F, Semi-Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:42:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,016</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23256466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/YigaClan/pseuds/YigaClan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Over six thousand years you've seen her break down crying and heard her cry out with joy, you've won countless victories and suffered countless losses together; and yet somehow, you're nervous. Not bad nervous. It's just Pearl, you think, but that's why you're nervous.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bismuth/Pearl (Steven Universe)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>125</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In Your T-Shirt, In My Satin Lingerie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The street lights gradually fall away from the rearview mirror in streaks of pastel gold as the Dondai cruises down the road. </p><p>You have a lot to talk about. She can't really look at you while she's driving but you have her laughing and you know the smile that's there is for you. Every time she smiles you feel something pulling at your chest and it's impossible not to fall deeper, absolutely hopelessly in love. </p><p>To say that you had loved her for millenia would be the real truth, but only now do you have the ability to make up for lost time. It comes in the form of unfamiliar human activities, new experiences, listening to the music she likes because she gets stars in her eyes, brighter and more beautiful than any in the sky and you can't look away. It's a lot to take in, but you feel much more at ease when she's there to take it in with you.</p><p>"Did you have fun tonight?" she asks as her laughter fizzles out. The smile stays on her face like spots in front of your eyes from chasing the sun. </p><p>You reach over to where her free hand, small and delicate, is resting on the gear shift, and cover it with your own. A venture in affection.</p><p>She makes this very quiet, startled kind of sound and you wonder for a moment if you've overstepped your boundaries, but then her expression changes. Her smile is gentler now, more easy as she gazes ahead at the narrowing stretch of road in front of you. </p><p>Over six thousand years you've seen her break down crying and heard her cry out with joy, you've won countless victories and suffered countless losses together; and yet somehow, you're <em> nervous </em> . Not bad nervous. <em> It's just Pearl, </em> you think, but that's <em> why </em>you're nervous.</p><p>"I had a great time," you start. The beginnings of a blush are rising to her cheeks as you speak. She's <em> lovely. Beautiful. </em>"I'm glad we got to spend it together."</p><p>The car pulls around a pebbled, sandy turn bracketed with tall grass and decaying fence posts before it hits beach and stops once you're a good distance from the water. </p><p>Pearl puts the car in park, and it's then that she finally turns to face you. She's flushed the color of the sea, all the way to the tips of her ears, but she doesn't seem anxious at all. "Me too," she says softly. You can't even <em> believe </em>how pretty she is. </p><p>"Remember what you told me before...before I was…"</p><p>"Yes," she says. It's clear she knows you don't want to say it. "I told you I wanted to make this world our new home. I remember. You looked so happy." </p><p>"Because I was with you. And I'm with you now, but things are so much better, and...I couldn't be more proud of you."</p><p>Pearl unbuckles her seatbelt and turns the radio down so that the current catchy pop tune is a low crackle through the speakers. It's dark, with only the glimmer of moonlight flooding the dashboard and creeping over the well-loved leather seats. Pearl's face is half-illuminated in the glow as she climbs over the center console and into your lap, and in that moment when you find yourself so close to her, if your heart burst from your chest you wouldn't have been the least bit surprised. </p><p>"Do you remember what happened after that?" she says, inches from your face.</p><p>"You tried to pick me up and we both fell on our butts." </p><p>It's one of your favorite memories. Biggs had laughed so hard she nearly poofed.</p><p>"I like making new memories with you," you say, tucking her hair behind her ear.</p><p>Her voice is a whisper when she says your name. She's <em> so close </em>. You can feel her breath on your cheek, and then you feel her lips on yours. </p><p>It's something like relief when she kisses you. Every tense muscle, every stiff bone in your body unwinds into jelly so fast you get a dizzy rush to the head and she's just holding your face in her hands and opening her mouth into yours, tender, like she's been waiting to do this for millenia too, like she'd never wanted anything else. </p><p>It's so sweet. She's making little soft noises that are driving you absolutely <em> wild </em> . You shouldn't be thinking about the things you want to do to her, the things you want her to do to <em> you </em> , but now you don't have a choice because <em> Pearl is in your lap </em>and your hands are around her waist and what else could you possibly be thinking about? </p><p>When she pulls away her lips are shining and you feel like she stole a little bit of your breath away with her. </p><p>"This is okay, right?" Her fingers kiss the rise of your cheekbone like butterfly wings as she speaks.</p><p>"It's very okay. I'm okay with anything you wanna do." </p><p>Perhaps the last part was added a little sheepishly, and you wonder if you're both thinking the same thing. Her fingers wander, though, and every inch of skin she blesses with her touch leads her eyes to follow until she's tracing the cool glimmering edge of your gem, <em> so </em>slowly, following the hoppered stair-step pattern to its golden center. And then, she looks to your face. </p><p>Your hands are still on her hips. They're so small. "You wanna…" </p><p>"Yes," she says. "<em> Yes </em>."</p><p>"Here? Are you sure?"</p><p>She laughs a little as she nods, and it's so nice to hear her laugh. "I want to. Very much." </p><p>You can see a sort of softening of her expression as she pops the third button on your shirt, just below where your gem ends and your skin begins. You can hardly believe this is happening, but part of you expects her willingness to take initiative. Her appearance beguiles her true nature: bold, resolute, and full of surprises. It's only a small thread in the endless complicated tapestry of reasons to love Pearl, one that is still being woven even at that moment.</p><p>Slowly, each button comes loose between her deft fingers. You let your head fall back but you're still watching her, sighing as her hands slip beneath the shirt and let it fall open, curtains in a balmy draft. Your breathing is deep and gusty now; you watch her place her soft hands over your breasts, mostly muscle and not very big at all, but Pearl seems more than pleased with what she's been offered. Her expression goes dreamy. </p><p>"Oh, Bismuth…" like a prayer. </p><p>Meanwhile, your hand has been creeping up her thigh. Not entirely on purpose, but you find it exceptionally hard to keep your hands off of her, especially when she has this sort of lusty haze in her expression, like even the smallest touch could light her aflame, might be her undoing. You start to wonder if she even knows how unbelievably, sinfully <em> erotic </em>she looks, but then you notice something. </p><p>She's grinding on your thigh. Through her jeans, slowly, just minute rocking movements, and <em>stars </em>how those pants show off her tight little rear. You wonder if she even realizes she's doing it. Something possessive, needy takes hold of you and pulls you toward her, wills your hands to grope her, to encourage the sway of her hips. </p><p>"Yeah," you breathe. You don't know why. "C'mon, gorgeous." </p><p>She seems to really enjoy that. Her jacket is slipping off one shoulder and she moves deeper against you, panting, as she reaches up and shrugs it off completely. </p><p>There isn't a lot of room in the front seat of the Dondai and the windows are starting to fog, turning the gorgeous ocean vista into muted smudges of navy and black. The next thing you know you're unzipping Pearl's jeans with one hand and slipping your fingers beneath the dampened beige satin of her panties, finding lush humidity awaiting you there while she leans forward and kisses you again, loose lips and velvet tongue. The slow circle and drag of your fingers draws a moan from her, vanilla-sweet, huffing breath and little silky sighs of delight. Her eyes are glassy as she tries to follow your kiss but ultimately falls short, moaning open-mouthed in the heady space between.</p><p>You could drown in the sight of her pants pulled halfway down her ballerina hips where they roll into your hand, coaxing pressure into sensitive aching flesh. You're hissing between your teeth, moaning with her, moving with her. There's something romantic, maybe even nostalgic about the prickling radio static over some soft folk ballad, the tangle of her limbs around your neck, hot breath in your ear, her voice a trembling mezzo piano that reaches right into your chest and tugs your heart. </p><p>Pearl adjusts herself in your lap, braces her willowy back against the dashboard and spreads her knees wider. Stars, you want to fuck her for real, in a bed with candles and rose petals and everything, lay her on her back and bury your head between her thighs, but you'd have her any way. To take her like this feels clandestine, exciting, and that is its own beauty. </p><p>"I need," Pearl huffs, "I need you--"</p><p>"Where, baby? Here?" </p><p>When your finger slips inside, it's like you've flipped a switch. Her mouth drops open, <em> yes </em> , brow knitted in intense delight, <em> yes, </em> like a gasp of air to the surface. You're smiling at her and you realize that there are very few things that could replace the knowledge that you're giving her this pleasure, that every reply--her body's uncontrollable relief at your touch, the moonglow of her gem in all its iridescent hues, all of it--it's because of you. It's because you're making her feel this good. <em> Stars. Fuck. </em>This is a privilege.</p><p>You shift forward and pull Pearl close with one arm, suddenly overwhelmed with this knowledge to the depths of your gem. Biting, obscene, nails dragging down your chest, you can make out the syllables of your name in her cries and only <em> she </em> could make it sound so erotic. This is the renegade you knew and more, and you want to give her everything. You want her to never want for anything again. It feels <em> powerful. </em></p><p>It feels natural when she comes to call her "sweet thing" and "babydoll" and shower her tender warm body with praise, kiss the pretty pastel blush from her cheeks, to draw your thumb in a gentle helix across her clitoris as her whimpers soften to afterglow sweetness. It feels natural to hold her. </p><p>You're watching fondly as Pearl's expression lightens, lips drawn into an easy, dazed smile.</p><p>"Bismuth," she sighs, grinning, for perhaps the hundredth time that night. It still sounds new. </p><p>She kisses you nice and slow and you're absolutely aching. <em> Don't ask her. Don't. If she wants to, she will. </em>You reach over and crack the window open. It's getting unbearable in here; or maybe it's just you. A waft of cool sea breeze slips in and soothes the heat, carries a briny green scent with it. It's quiet for a little, as Pearl shifts in your lap and lays her head on your shoulder, seemingly content with just closeness and the distant hushing sound of the tide.</p><p>Eventually she sits up again, runs a hand through her hair and slicks it down where it's gotten unruly. </p><p>"Bismuth?" Tentative, gentle.</p><p>"Huh."</p><p>"Do you...do you. Uhm. Do you want to go to your place? The car is tiny. Maybe I can...return the...oh <em> stars, </em>I don't mean it like--"</p><p>"Pearl," you laugh. It's so cute to see her fumbling over herself like this, but you take pity. "Let's go. It's only ten, we have all night."</p><p>She smiles, obviously relieved of awkward tension.</p><p>You give her rear a pat and she startles, giggling. It's the sound of summer wind chimes. "Better hop back in the driver's seat quick, honey. I don't know how long I can sit on my foot."</p>
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